


Wrecked

by orphan_account



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: A Couple of Cuss Words, Brief mention of karanomori, Dancing, F/M, Gino lets his imagination run wild, Grinding, I think this might be PWP?, I wanted Ginoza and Tsunemori to get grimy in a club, a little bit of drinking, and kinakawa, kunizuka, so I made it happen, world's shortest fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9166564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The sight of her leaves him wrecked and wanting. After a lifetime of holding people at arm's length, he's not sure he'll survive wanting someone as much as he wants her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I got the idea for this story on a 4 hour car ride that was followed by a 2 hour plane ride. By the time I made it to my laptop it was late, Sherlock S4E1 had ruined me, and my inspiration had been flushed like a turd. This story is so far from what I wanted it to be, but I haven't written anything other than research papers for about 6 years, and miss writing, so here it is. It serves no purpose. The characters are OOC af, and the scenario is completely unrealistic, but I wanted to write it. That's why it's called fanfiction, right?
> 
> The idea came to me while listening to "Divide and Conquer" by What So Not. It's the song that I imagine playing while they're getting down on the dance floor. Check it out? (My taste in music is better than my writing skills. Promise.)
> 
> I'm hoping to go back to writing, so I'd appreciate any and all criticism about writing style. I'm kind of self conscious about my comma use (is that normal?). Please let me know what you think!

They hadn't been in the club for more than an hour when Karanomori and Kunizuka had managed to drag a tipsy Kinakawa onto the dance floor, and he couldn’t be bothered to figure out where Togane had gone off to. He’d been content to remain by Tsunemori's side, falling into the comfortable companionship they’d developed lately. Eventually they’d both finished their second round of drinks and she had gotten up for what was supposed to be a quick trip to the bar. It had really been turning out to be a lovely evening, except now she was standing at the bar being chatted up by a man that even he had to admit was outstandingly handsome.

Putting aside his instinctual flood of emotions he couldn’t really bring himself to hold it against her. This guy, with his flaxseed hair, cerulean eyes, and genuine smile was the sort of guy that could bring out the sun on a cloudy day. He had approached her, and within seconds Akane had been giggling into her palm. This was exactly the sort of guy that she deserved, the kind that could make her happy.

Despite all of that, Despite the fact that he knows it’s not possible, that he doesn’t deserve her, that even if he did, she’s responsible for the lot of them— the only reason they’ve even been allowed to take this little trip is because the security at the club is so tight. If a single one of the enforcers makes their way out without an inspector the alarm will sound, and everyone’s night will be over— but, despite it all, he can’t help but let his imagination run free. He knows what he wishes he could do. He can see it all play out in his mind.

It wouldn’t take any time at all to down what’s left of his scotch and make his way over to the couple. He wouldn’t even have to say anything, just grab her hand and tug her after him. He knows she’d assume he has something important to tell her, maybe something about their last case, so she’d follow unresisting, _trusting_. He wouldn’t pull her outside or into a quiet corner to chat, though. Instead, he’d lead her into the anonymity of the dance floor and wrap his arms around her, and, in his imagination, she’d move close to him without hesitation, giving into the desire that’s grown between over the years they’ve known each other, one hand running through his hair before using her grip on the small of his back to bring them even closer. He can imagine them sharing each other’s breath on the dance floor, can feel her panting against his lips as her pulse picks up.

She’s bold, unafraid of going after what she wants, running her hands up his toned abdomen and chest, down his arms, passed the flex of his biceps and the wiry definition of his forearms to lace their fingers and lift his hands off of her body. For a moment he’d be left bereft of the warmth she ignites in him, but instead of moving away she’d turn and use her grip on his hands to bring them together again, her back to his chest, her ass pressed flush against his hips. And _fuck_ even before she starts moving against him the brush of her hair against his cheek and the smell of her perfume would have him feeling wild. He can imagine them pressed together in the middle of the dance floor, losing themselves more with every rotation of her hips, with every press of his pelvis.

Maybe he’d meet eyes with the blonde cupcake that had been chatting her up earlier, the thought of the two of them together sending such a strong wave of possession through him that he’d sink his teeth into her neck before even realizing it. There’d be a moment where he’d regret it, consider lifting his mouth away from her neck to apologize, but before the thought can finish crossing his mind she’s got both arms lifted over her head, hands fisted in his hair, pressing him harder against the sensitive skin under her ear. He’d be unable to stop the helpless growl that escapes him as the kisses and nips that he smears from her ear to her collarbone drive her to arch her back, pressing her ass more firmly against his rapidly hardening cock. A moment of silent understanding will pass between them, and they’ll be making their way off of the dance floor, out the heavy double doors. 

By the time they make it to Akane’s apartment their shirts will be untucked and mostly unbuttoned. There’s no way they’d make it to the bedroom, they’ve been forced to wait so long. Instead, they’ll find themselves on her couch, half undressed, her legs straddling his lap. Now, finally in the privacy of her apartment, he’ll let himself run his hands up her skirt to palm the ass that had so effectively been driving him crazy on the dance floor. Free of the obstruction her shirt and bra had presented he’ll latch his mouth onto one of her breasts, circling the nipple with his tongue before applying torturous suction. In his mind’s eye he can see the way she’d throw her head back, can hear the moan that would escape her.

He wants to make her feel better than she’s ever felt, to make her forget that anything exists outside of the two of them. The need drives him to his feet, her legs wrapping firmly around his lower back as he carries her to the dining room table. He hasn’t even had a chance to divest himself of his trousers, but he can’t muster the will to drag himself away from her, choosing instead to get her skirt off, tossing it blindly before reverently running his hands back up from her ankles to her thighs, guiding her knees over his shoulders. Just the thought of tasting her is nearly enough to bring him over the edge, but his attempt to put some space between them is sabotaged by her roaming and grasping hands, pulling him down to her mouth, and _fuck_ she’s still got her legs over his shoulders so she’s bent nearly in half. 

He realizes that he’s started rutting against the table, and pulls back to catch his breath, but fuck if the sight of her sprawled across the table, eyes half-lidded with desire, mouth gasping for breath and glistening with his saliva isn’t the most irresistible thing on the planet. He drops to his knees, pulling her hips to the edge of the table, and meets her eyes before lowering his mouth to the inside of her thigh. She doesn’t seem to be breathing at all now as her wrecked gaze follows the path of his mouth until he finally lowers it to her clit, slipping a finger into her at the same time. She’s already at the edge, writhing against his mouth, and reaching a hand down to grab his hand.

It’s the feeling of his hand clenching against his thigh, chasing the phantom of her palm, that brings him crashing back to reality. Suddenly, he’s aware of the empty glass in his other hand, the driving rhythm of the music in the club. He’s not sure how long he was zoned out for, but the spot he’d been watching is now void of the inspector and her “friend,” and he’s hard enough for anyone that might happen to take a second glance his way to notice. He’s almost glad for the embarrassment, leaving no room in his consciousness for the disappointment of not knowing where Akane has gone off to, and the possibility that she’s decided that this new man is a better companion than he is.

The walk to the bathroom is going to be tough. He can only hope that the sparse lighting will keep anyone from noticing his dilemma until he can get some privacy to take care of it himself. Having finally gathered the will to make his move to the restroom he goes to rise from his perch only to be stopped by a palm coming to rest on the inside of his thigh and a whisper of breath against his ear.

“Will you dance with me, Ginoza-san?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
